


Springs Eternal

by IgnobleBard



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sibling Incest, Slashy Santa Swap 2005, Valar - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IgnobleBard/pseuds/IgnobleBard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lord of Doom and the Lord of Dreams share an intimate interlude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Springs Eternal

Request: No hurt/comfort, first time preferred

~***~

The Battle of the Pelennor Fields was one of the largest, bloodiest conflicts Middle Earth had ever seen. I and my brother Námo worked ceaselessly for days; Námo to summon to the Halls of Waiting those fallen in battle and me to comfort the wounded that remained in Middle Earth by allowing them sleep without dreams. Even the ending of the battle saw no respite for us as Mandos was teeming with the spirits of the slain and the battalions of mortal oath breakers Aragorn had enlisted from the Paths of the Dead, while the houses of healing in Gondor were filled with the wounded and dying.

When all the spirits were disposed to their fates and the healed living given over to the peace of their nightly dreams, Námo and I finally allowed ourselves to take our ease. We sat in the Great Hall, sipping cups of mead, lost in our thoughts. I looked at Námo, disturbed to see the heaviness that seemed to weigh him from within.

"Do not despair, brother, hope is not yet lost," I said gently.

Námo looked up and gave me a small smile. "It is not despair that troubles my heart, it is the knowledge of what is to come," he said, his deep voice reflecting his mystery.

I shivered in spite of myself. How I loved my brother, how awed was I by his dark beauty, how I respected and admired his courage, his uncompromising strength. Often did I wish I could ease the burden of his gifts, gifts bestowed upon him by Eru, and which he bore with grace. But of all Námo's many abilities his prescience had to be, to my mind, the heaviest weight of all, made more so by the solitude the knowing forced upon him.

"Perhaps you could come to Lórien, renew yourself at the fountains, walk the garden paths, forget all this for a time," I urged.

"Not yet, brother. Soon," Námo said, and I knew the discussion was over, for nothing swayed my brother when he made a decision.

And so I returned to Lórien with a heavy heart, not knowing when next we would meet or what fate awaited Middle Earth in these dark days. Estë was waiting for me and she knew why I was troubled ere I spoke. She came to me and led me to the soft grasses by the lake, and there we made love and the heaviness within mine own heart was lightened.

The day came soon, even as Námo had said, that I found myself again summoned to my brother's fortress for the final battle. We watched Vairë work steadily and deftly at her loom, weaving the events as they happened, her fingers reaching for threads of gold to blend with the reds and blacks of the battle. Slowly the shape of Orodruin came into view above the clashing armies in the foreground and the top of the mountain of fire was rent asunder. The tiny figures at its base, mere specks upon the tapestry, seemed to grow and swell in importance under her ever moving fingers until the shapes of eagles soared to them and carried them away from the fiery cataclysm below.

Námo left to tend to the business of judging the flood of souls entering the halls, leaving me to my own work in another part of the fortress. This time Elves of Lothlórien and Mirkwood joined those of the men from Gondor and Rohan, having lost their lives in battles within their own realms while Sauron made his final push for victory. But these would have to wait, for the remnant of Sauron's spirit posed a particularly thorny problem for Námo as he had to leave Mandos to see to the final fate of the rebellious Maia.

When he returned at last it was with a greater sadness than I had ever before seen in him. Consigning a Maia to oblivion represented a kind of defeat to Námo and defeat was not something he took well. As he reentered the Halls, I met him with a joyous smile. My own work had gone extremely well and I was in good spirits. A blanket of relief had settled upon the soul of Middle Earth and calmed the spirits of battle weary warriors and the denizens of the free realms as news of the victory was spread.

"Well met, brother," I said, my smile failing at the look of pain on Námo's face. I offered him a cup of wine and he accepted it wordlessly and walked past me. He went to the window and placed a hand wearily upon the wall, looking out at the sea below.

"The end of another age has come," he said softly. "Do you ever feel them, brother, the ages that lie behind, the press of them, their immensity?"

I sighed, for indeed it was so. The ages of the world had wrought such joy and sorrow as even the heart of a Vala was sore pressed to contain. I went to him and touched his shoulder. "It is our duty to mark them, our privilege - and sometimes our burden - to witness them, to do what we may for Eru's creation."

Námo sipped his wine and placed his hand upon mine where it rested upon his shoulder, stroking it gently. "I think I will accept your offer to go to Lórien and take my ease within the gardens there," he said.

Within the gardens of Lórien not even the father of the dead could be melancholy. Námo wandered the shores of the lake, strolled the woods and flowered meadows, drank from the silver fountains, and his spirit was slowly restored by the beauty and peace of his surroundings. I often companioned him during his wanderings and we reestablished our brotherly bond through lively conversation and reminiscences of pleasant times spent together.

One day as we walked through a spring clad meadow, I remarked on Námo's changed disposition. "How good it is to see you happy again, brother. It has been long since you left Mandos to visit me here. It gladdens my heart to see your cares lightened."

Námo smiled and it was as a burst of sunlight from a rain ravaged sky. How I had longed to see my brother renew his natural love of Arda and the potency he drew from its splendor.

In my joy I impulsively pressed my lips to his cheek, only to gasp in surprise as he suddenly seized me and kissed my mouth with rough passion. My instinct was to pull away, but the sensation of Námo's manifested body holding me so tightly, kissing me with such desire, transfixed me where I stood. Within my mind a brief struggle ensued between my judgement and my longing, but then my arms tightened around Námo, our kiss deepening into something sweeter, though just as hungered.

We parted and I looked wonderingly into my brother's eyes, unable to believe this could truly be happening. "What is the meaning of this?" I panted.

"I believe I have made my intent clear enough," Námo said, his tongue flicking the corded muscle of my neck.

"Indeed you have," I agreed, my being roused by Námo's intensity, "but why now, why here?"

"If not now, when? If not here, where?" Námo replied, licking the rim of my ear, making me shudder.

"I do not deny my heart has desired this," I whispered, overcome. "But dare we act on our feelings?"

In reply, Námo seized the collar of my silver tunic and ripped it open with one great heave, exposing my chest. My breath caught as I looked into his dark eyes, alight with excitement, as he stripped me of the tunic and threw it to the grass. His arms went about me as he latched onto my nipple, sucking and nipping harshly. I trembled in pain and need, excited by the force of Námo's desire, clinging to my brother's night black hair as he ravished my yearning body.

"I will not let another age pass without acting on my feelings," Námo growled between bites of my pulsing flesh.

He toppled me to the grass, his mouth never breaking contact with my chest, his hands raking my sides, down to the top of my leggings and back up again. He bit my nipples stingingly, and then mellowed the burning with forceful sweeps of his tongue until the heat radiating from them infused my body even after he moved on.

I moaned as his teeth scraped the smooth, undimpled flesh of my belly, my hands moving to the nipples he had just released, reviving their burning sting with a pinch of my fingers. My arousal, trapped within the confines of my clothing, created a growing friction that became ever more pleasant and maddening as I writhed beneath Námo's touch and roving lips.

His hand cupped my groin, pressing and massaging lightly and I gave a groan of desperation, reaching for the laces of my leggings only to have him push my hands away roughly.

"Patience, brother," he rumbled and I clenched my teeth and gave a small nod, clinging to the cool meadow grass at my sides, wringing their song of joy into one of ardent devotion.

He loosened the laces, parting them just enough to allow his lips below the waist, bestowing a gentle kiss. Then down another bit and placing another kiss just that much lower. I lay my head back, gazing at the brilliant sky with dreamy eyes, trusting in my brother's control, in the love I felt emanate from him with each breath upon my skin.

Another tug, another kiss, and now the head of my arousal strained at the laces binding it, threatening to burst forth. His lips lightly kissed the unhooded tip and I arched reflexively, helplessly.

"Please, Námo..." I began, but words - sacred, magical words that created and halted the material world at my command, as of all the Valar - failed me.

My ragged breath hitched within my chest as Námo responded to my plea and tore away my leggings at last, freeing my naked lust to his dark, impassioned gaze. I felt myself flush rosily under his attentive eyes and he looked up at me and smiled his reassurance, sensing my sudden reserve.

"If you have any doubts, brother..." he began.

I raised my hand, reaching for him, my eyes pleading, and his hand met mine. Our fingers twined, palm to palm, and we squeezed at the same moment.

"Never," I said, and drew his hand up, kissing his fingers reverently.

His smile widened and slowly our fingers parted, his attention returning once more to my arousal, which reached for him in its turn. He leaned down and took it fully into his mouth, creating a gentle suction. At the same moment, he encompassed my orbs in his hand with a tenderness few in his presence had ever experienced, stroking them, separating them with one large finger, teasing the crease behind them with light fingertips; the pleasure as brilliant to my quaking body as the light of Anor to my feverish eyes.

He held me within the sphere of his providence, my pleasure as wax molded and shaped by his heat. When at last I could take no more, he knew that also and his lips left me, his hands slid over my thighs and he knelt up, his clothing vanishing in a blink, his arousal hard and glistening in the westering light.

He laid himself upon the grass and drew his legs up, his eyes holding a challenging invitation.

"Take what you want, brother. Show me what you have withheld from me for these past ages."

I needed no other enticement, and without hesitation or restraint I positioned my lovingly prepared phallus and entered him. His black eyes burned from within like an ember stirred to life and he held my upper arms and gasped. I paused, the rhythms of our breathing slowly synchronizing as we looked into each others eyes, flexed and relaxed our straining corporeal muscles, until he was ready for more. Only when the flame in his eyes banked did I push forward, his moan of approval signaling me that the time had come.

The velvety heat of him kindled starfire within my spirit as I began to move, slowly at first, then faster, my arousal singing against the core of his pleasure, making him thrash and arch wildly beneath me. He clutched my arms, raked my back and buttocks, as the thunderous sounds of our lovemaking crackled upon the charged air.

He reached to stroke himself, his knuckles gliding upon my belly in the dew of his pre-release. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the sensations overwhelm me, letting myself feel all I had ever longed to feel with him and it was good. It was a union of two like natures, though with different functions in the sight of Eru, and it was right, it was blessed.

We found our release together at the same moment a warm spring shower began to fall, anointing us where we lay. I looked into his eyes as pleasure overtook me and saw it reflected back in the depths of my brother's gaze. As I looked into his face, my hair falling about him, the rain running from my nose and chin, wetting his cheeks, I felt a happiness I had not felt since the dawn of my creation, when all of Arda sang the one song and the harmonies brought forth life. We shared a kiss and then simply lay in a warm, brotherly embrace until the stars shone overhead and Estë came to call us home.

Today the fortress of my brother is a vast place, each age adding its special design to the stone rooms that extend with their passing, each death adding its own distinctive nuance to the place known to Elves and Men as the Halls of Waiting. And within these vast halls is a wing adorned floor to ceiling with tapestries wrought by Vairë, tapestries depicting the love of two brothers; a love as limitless as Mandos.


End file.
